In so many of my conversations with people lately, I invariably end up bending their ears about heaven, a topic I can't seem to get away from since Ian's accident. A friend recently asked me a question like, "How does anticipating heaven motivate you in daily tasks like getting up in the morning and going to work?" I gave an answer, but I've also thought about it a lot more since he asked me. It's a great question, since every morning I wake up with a set of tasks ahead of me.
An experience like this with Ian puts the rest of life into perspective. Things and relationships and a career and so many other things have so much less significance next to someone's life. Compared to heaven, though, life itself pales. Heaven motivates me to hold all those other things loosely, because they pale in comparison to heaven's joy. Heaven motivates me to more frequently consider my daily tasks as something the Lord has given me to do while on this earth even if that task is as mundane as taking out the garbage. Heaven motivates me to recognize that, though grief and sadness stalk me now, they will be replaced by a joy I can't even understand.
Ian continues to make slow progress. He was reaching for objects at the request of one therapist. When asked to focus on one of two objects, he complied. When we help him, he's able to get to a point where he's sitting up on his own. He's awake and alert during the day more than he's ever been. Everyone who works with him reports small steps of progress. It's hard to tell, but it seems that Ian's throat is feeling better, too.
Thank you for praying.